


Electrovalence

by salticidae



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autistic Character, Developing Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Trans Character, Unreciprocated Handjob, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salticidae/pseuds/salticidae
Summary: Zim's not going to let a little thing like the fact that he has no idea what he's doing stop him from getting into Membrane's pants. Good thing Membrane is happy to teach him.





	Electrovalence

**Author's Note:**

> set in the au premise found [here](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/188240896962/a-while-back-you-said-generally-i-like-to-imagine)! the basic idea is that in ep1, instead of going to the skool for information gathering, zim sets up in membrane labs pretending to be fresh out of grad school. membrane thinks his brain and all his mysterious alien gadgets are hot, and zim is too busy soaking up the praise to remember his nefarious human-crushing plans. thanks ckret2 for my life
> 
> trans membrane is all my idea though baby 🤟
> 
> (for any trans ppl wondering abt junk terminology, i mostly use the vulva-related words for him, with a few dick euphemisms mixed in. he never had bottom surgery but he's been on T for like forever, basically)

When the door to Membrane's office opens, he hardly notices, engrossed in proofreading his latest report. He doesn't look up when the lock engages, or when clipped footsteps cross the room towards him. Then a shadow falls over his work; Membrane puts his pen down.

His face brightens almost instantly when he sees that Zim is hovering beside his desk, hands clasped behind his back the way he does when he's trying not to fidget. "Zim," Membrane says, warmly. "Excellent timing. I was just reviewing your segment of today's write-up, and I wanted to get your—"

"Yes, yes. Later," Zim interrupts him, still standing as straight as he can manage. "I would like to discuss, eh, personal matters. Actually." Membrane doesn't put his work away, but he sits back in his chair and gives Zim his full attention.

"Of course," he says, trying not to sound too eager. They'd gone out for dinner (for a given value of both "out" and "dinner", considering Zim's various food restrictions) the night before, and Membrane is still riding that high.

"I want to do something for you," Zim says. And then he's in Membrane's personal space, one hand on his abdomen, eyes searching his face. Membrane stares dumbly. "I want—" Zim stops himself, hand curling into a loose fist. "Can I touch you," he asks, in a rush. It sounds more like a line he's memorized than a question, but Membrane can sympathize; he's got quite a few social scripts himself. 

None of which were prepared for this, evidently, because Membrane finds himself fumbling for a response. "Can—? Yes, you… Absolutely," he finally manages. His gut twists pleasantly; after weeks of unconfirmed (but functionally identical to actual) dating, he certainly wasn't expecting Zim to make the first move. He might have to make all the following moves, though. Zim seems to be frozen in place now, his eyes fixed on Membrane's lap and his hand clutching Membrane's labcoat.

"Do you want to?" Membrane ventures, just in case.

"Yes! Yes, it is just, uh, the nerves," Zim says, a little frantic. When Membrane still doesn't move, he puts his other hand on Membrane's coat and leans in a little more. "I do," he says, more evenly this time. "I just—don't touch me back. Please."

"You have my word," Membrane says. He won't pretend he wasn't looking forward to that, but if that's what Zim wants then he's happy to abstain. Zim still doesn't seem to know how to start, though, so Membrane eases his hands around Zim's to undo the lower buttons of his coat, before reaching for his pants. Zim startles, then swats Membrane's hands away from his fly with a shout. "Zim can do it," he declares, and Membrane pulls his hands clear, smiling behind his collar.

Zim leaves his gloves on after he gets Membrane's pants loose, which is fine – Membrane usually does, too, when he does this himself, on account of pinchy prosthetic joints. He has not, however, produced any lubricant, and Membrane is nowhere near wet enough yet to make up for it. He laughs, a little nervous, and gently pulls Zim's hand away. Zim shoots him an inscrutable look. "I haven't changed my mind," Membrane says, voice far steadier than he feels. "But you're not going to get very far, like that." He rests his thumb against Zim's pulse point (pity he can't feel it through the gloves), and uses his free hand to fish around in one of his coat's inner pockets. This morning, he'd been quietly mortified to realize he had come to work in one of his sleeping coats, despite the fact that no one around him was ever able to tell the difference. His tune's changed now, though. He pulls a small, disposable package of lube out of his coat, tears the seal, and massages half of it into Zim's hand. Zim's eyes widen a fraction, and when he wets his lips it sets sparks in Membrane's gut. As sudden as all of this is, he's not going to pretend he doesn't want it, that he hasn't been thinking about it for months, now.

Zim curls his fingers experimentally, then pulls himself up to straddle Membrane's thighs before shoving his hand directly into Membrane's pants. Membrane almost laughs, taken by surprise, but it turns breathy and irregular as Zim finds his mark; the feeling of slick latex on hands not his own is more intoxicating than he'd expected. 

Past the initial rush, Zim's touches are clumsy and heavy-handed; he gropes Membrane's clit without stroking, and seems unwilling to probe too deeply between his lips. Membrane's no stranger to this, he can work with enthusiasm over technique, but Zim just keeps _almost_ hitting all the right spots, breezing right past them in favor of a pattern that Membrane can't make heads or tails of – it's not _quite_ the torture he's looking for, at the moment.

Membrane lets his head rest against Zim's, and takes hold of his wrist; he only means to direct Zim's touch, but Zim freezes entirely. "Ah, no, keep going," Membrane says, shaky. Underneath him, Zim clicks his tongue in a way that's probably supposed to be dismissive.

"If you want this so bad, then stop interrupting!" Zim declares, with noticeably less bite than usual. Membrane laughs.

"I'm just trying to show you how I like it," he says. "Your other partners seem to have had, er, different tastes." Zim grumbles at him, almost sheepish, but when he eases back onto Membrane it's with a gentler touch. 

"So show me," Zim says after a moment. He's not looking at Membrane's face. Membrane slides the hand on Zim's wrist down to join his fingers – and it's certainly a novel experience, getting fingered by a hand with so few of them, though hardly unpleasant. He opens his legs as much as he can without dislodging Zim, and tilts his hips up, for good measure. Membrane guides Zim's fingers across his clit in demonstration, and encourages him to stroke more deeply inside as well. Zim stares at their joined hands. He looks like he's being shown the secrets of the universe – Membrane licks his teeth and clenches hard around Zim's fingers. Zim might be inexplicably (and arousingly, he won't lie) ahead of him in nearly every field of science, but this, at least, is something only Membrane can show him.

Zim catches on quick; he thrusts his fingers as far into Membrane as he can get them, mapping him from the inside. _That's_ more like it. Membrane pulls his hand free to clutch at Zim's shoulders and bury his face against his neck, groaning as Zim figures out where best to apply himself. "You're doing so good," he mumbles into Zim's collar. "Just like that." Zim's fingers jerk, suddenly; Membrane feels his throat work. He smiles a little despite himself. Could've seen that one coming a mile off.

A couple of shaky breaths later, Zim pulls his fingers out in favor of stroking Membrane's length. Even his narrow hand is large enough to cover Membrane's clit entirely, but he applies himself eagerly, glove slick with lube and arousal both. "How's this," Zim asks, desperate and giddy. Membrane puts an arm around the back of his neck and grinds hard into Zim's hand.

"Incredible. Amazing." Membrane is more than happy to indulge him. "A little… A little harder," he prompts, and Zim obliges. Membrane's thighs start shaking. It's the eagerness as much as anything else that pushes him over the edge, not long after – not an uncommon trait in his romantic & sexual partners, given his status, but from someone as bright as Zim, it's overwhelming. His whole body curls against Zim's as he rides out his orgasm, then he falls back against the padding of his chair. Zim studies his face for a moment before carefully pulling his hand free, as if he expects Membrane to grab it again.

It's not entirely unreasonable; Membrane sees the way he holds his hand awkwardly away from himself, covered in lube and Membrane's slick. It's hardly a secret that Zim deals with fairly severe germaphobia, after all, and a warm bubble builds in Membrane's chest. He touches the back of Zim's hand without grabbing, this time. "Can I?"

Zim blinks at him, a little dazed. "Eh? Oh! Yes, ehh, permission granted." Membrane smiles, behind his collar, and reaches around Zim to pull a handful of sanitizing wipes out of his desk. Zim watches Membrane's hands as he's wiped down, almost transfixed. Membrane doesn't let go when he's clean, instead turning Zim's hand over to thread their fingers together; Zim turns his head away, but he stays where he is, and lets Membrane hold him a little longer.


End file.
